


Sunset High & Our Bodies Low

by Ninyaaaaaaah



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: France - Freeform, Laflams, Lams - Freeform, Laurette - Freeform, M/M, M/M/M, Modern AU, Nothing really HAPPENS in this fic but yeah, Polyamory, hamlaf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 02:50:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11842410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ninyaaaaaaah/pseuds/Ninyaaaaaaah
Summary: John leaves South Carolina for the summer because he needs to get away. Art classes in Paris are the perfect excuse.This work is based off of a real life moment in Majinie's life. This fic is for them. Majinie, thanks for being you, you rock, and I'm honoured that you wanted me to write this for you <3Title is from "Lose It" by Oh Wonder





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Majinie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Majinie/gifts).



Outside the window, the French countryside rolled by. Gentle, rolling hills lit up in the gold light of early morning, hush, hush inside the train, soft noise of people just beginning to wake. Ruffled newspapers, soft sighs, the faint, tinny sound of music from someone’s earbuds. Rhythmic ticka-tick of the train on its tracks, gently carrying them along into the day, lulling, soothing, ticka-tick, ticka-tick on the tracks.

John leaned his head against the cool window, stared out at the hills as the world rolled by, and the train snaked them sweetly into Paris. They passed by fields of Lavender, fields of sunflowers, all lit up in morning light, reaching for the sky with their bright, happy colours. 

John sighed, settled into this new world, this new life. Felt almost as if his bones themselves shifted, made room for air inside a body held too tight for too long with anger. 

What was there to rage against here?

He was worlds away from all the things that tore his heart apart in his chest. 

It felt good.

He felt weightless, a ghost in a new land. His aunt Mary had graciously offered him lodging at her estate, but in the three days he’d been here, he’d barely seen her. 

The quiet was nice. It gave him space to let his heart breathe. It gave him space to walk around and just look, to observe the world without being in it, to let all the weight of expectations float away into the clear blue sky. 

He wouldn’t truly exist here until someone spoke to him. 

Until then, he just breathed. Just let the picturesque countryside envelope him in beauty. 

The train rolled into the next station, loud whistle, ding as the doors opened, and more people got on. Even the gentle shuffle of people moving around to make room, to sit down, wasn’t enough to burst the bubble of sleepy early morning peace.

John didn’t pay any of it much mind, just looked out at the cobblestoned street, lush flower baskets hanging over shop doors, spilling vibrant colours over their brims. A bumblebee hummed around one basket. 

John pulled his feet in, and shifted his canvas bag to his lap when someone moved in across from him and sat down. 

The train started out again, loud whistle, soft ticka-tick, little jerk and away they went, back into the countryside, serpentining their way to Paris, to real life and loud noises and bright colour.

But for now, peace.

John glanced at the person across from him, glanced back out the window.

Wait.

He glanced at the stranger again, and tried not to stare. Shit. Was everything in this country heart shatteringly beautiful?

The stranger was looking at his phone, texting someone with a small smile on his face. 

John’s heart clenched and he ducked his head, opened his bag just for something to do, and rustled around inside. Pulled out his sketchbook and a pencil and opened it. He couldn’t just sit here across from this man and do nothing. So he doodled the bumblebee and the hanging basket overflowing with colours. He doodled a sunflower in the bottom corner. 

He found himself sketching the stranger. Kept glancing up furtively at him, his dark skin, his perfect, close trimmed beard. Full lips, dark eyes, perfect nose, easy smile as he read whatever reply lit up the screen of his phone. 

John’s heart skipped a beat. What he wouldn’t do for this man to smile at him like that.

He swallowed the thought down and carried on with his sketch. Tight curls pulled back into a high ponytail. Fitted t-shirt in pale rose, dark wash jeans, clean shoes. Perfect, polished, stunning. 

The train crossed a bridge over a river, ticka-tick louder and hollow over air, and John pauses his sketch to watch a kingfisher dive, blue and orange feathers brilliant against the water. 

When he turned back, the stranger was watching him, dark eyes warm, little smile on his face. 

John blushed and ducked his head, still a ghost, still not real, hadn’t uttered a word. 

He put his pencil back to the sketchbook, soft sound of lead on paper soothing his nerves. 

When he looked up again, the stranger was staring out the window, deep in thought. 

John sketched for the rest of the trip, got a little lost in it, watched the handsome stranger’s face come to life on the paper in his lap. He lost track of time, forgot that he was going anywhere, could have stayed right here, cocooned on the train, forever. 

The whistle of the train pulling into the station startled John, and he fumbled to put his pencil away. 

The stranger stood up, stretched. John caught his breath, the space between them seeming suddenly so much smaller, his gaze level with-

Blushing, John dropped his gaze. Went to close the sketchbook, and was stopped by one long, elegant finger on the page. 

“I thought you might have been drawing me. I am flattered, little one.” The man’s voice was as beautiful as the rest of him, and John stammered, lost for words, too surprised and embarrassed at being caught out to react, blush hot on his freckled cheeks. 

The man smiled as he stepped away. 

“Seriously. I am flattered. You draw beautifully.” 

And then he was gone, leaving John alone with a sketch and a pounding heart. Cursing, John stuffed the sketchbook into his bag and scrambled off the train before the doors could close, out of the peace of early morning, and into the cacophony of noise that was Paris. 

He grabbed a croissant from a bakery as he walked down the street, heading towards the studio his art class would be held in, and hoping he was going the right way. Around him, shops were opening and people were heading to work, hustle and bustle and hurry, colour and noise, and it hit John just as he turned the corner and paused to look back, trying to see the tall stranger;

He existed, now.


	2. Chapter 2

John’s sense of peace was shattered. 

He had looked for the tall stranger on his ride home from the city last night, tired, hands aching, covered head to toe with smudges of paint, of charcoal, a pencil still stuck behind his ear. Creation was messy, learning was messy, and John threw himself in without pause. He revelled in the freedom art afforded him. To explore. To experiment. To learn who he was on paper, what mattered most to him, the things he noticed, the things he cherished. 

So what if his thoughts kept straying to a suave stranger on the train. So what if he held his breath with hope that he’d see him again, and maybe be able to get another word out. 

He existed for real now, in Paris, in France, oceans away from home and his family and expectations, away from the pressures of college and all the things he wanted to be but wasn’t sure how… 

He was caught between everything he wanted to be, and the person he was. 

Felt the weight of possibility heavy and sweet on his tongue like honey in the warm French air. 

Maybe, just maybe…

But the stranger didn’t appear on the evening train, and the sun set so beautifully over the rolling hills that John just let himself fall into it. Reds and golds lighting the world up warm, and that heavy sweetness on John’s tongue turned almost cloying, and his heart ached, because how could something be so beautiful, how could he be here, immersed in so much beauty, and still just be himself? Just a freckled, paint flecked, near ghost of a boy, just beginning to exist for real, just beginning to find his own voice… 

Hope shimmered bright on the horizon in the morning. Sparkled like a distant sea. Set John’s heart beating in his throat where it didn’t belong. 

The stranger that sat across from him that morning was not the same as yesterday. 

He almost fell into the seat, dishevelled. Dark hair haphazardly scraped into a ponytail, already falling back out. Goatee, dark eyes with deep bags beneath them. Coffee in hand, phone out, papers flying everywhere, cursing in English. 

John couldn’t help but stare. 

The man tried frantically to organize himself, only succeeded in dropping the stack of papers on his lap, and his phone, and nearly dumping his coffee everywhere. 

“Shit, fuck, oh my god.”

Peace? What peace?

John’s eyes were wide, just watching this train wreck inside a train to a ticka-tick sound track, all at odds with the serene landscape rolling by outside.

“Could you maybe hold this?”

John blinked, coffee cup thrust into his face. He took it, warmth from the cup seeping into his hand, and watched the man gather his papers and his phone, shuffle everything back in order. Everything sharp. Fast. Hurried. He moved at another plane to everything around him, startling in his incongruency. 

Finally, he huffed a sigh and straightened up. Flashed John a brilliant smile that made John’s stomach twist. 

Wordlessly, John handed the coffee back.

“Thank you, you’re a saviour, honestly. I just get so caught up in my work that I don’t realize the time, and then I didn’t have time to pack all this properly, and I mean I can’t not get a coffee so just, ugh, thanks!” The stranger’s bright voice, million miles a minute, far too much too fast for John so early, still so barely existent here, and this man, possibly the most brilliantly existing thing John had ever seen… 

His head spun. 

“Did you know you’ve got something-“ the stranger leaned over, right into John’s space, and tried to scrub a thumb over John’s cheek. 

John squeezed his eye shut and laughed, pulling away. 

“-blue, right there?” and the stranger smiled that heart stopping smile again, all charm, all sugar, all fast forward. 

“It’s paint.” John admitted. So what if he hadn’t noticed he still had blue paint on his face. He blushed a little under the stranger’s intense scrutiny.

“It’s very cute, becoming even, against those freckles you’ve got. The colour works for you.” The stranger was teasing, but it was light, flirty even, his American accent soothingly familiar to John’s ears. 

“Thanks, I think?” John responded, still trying to catch up. He felt like this stranger was on step ten and he was still trying to get to two. 

Outside, flowers swayed in the breeze, white clouds tailored themselves into whimsical shapes and floated on by. 

John fiddled with the strap on his canvas bag, fingers itching just to do something with the tightly wrought energy the stranger was feeding him. 

“You’re welcome. It was a compliment. My name is Alexander, and you are?” The stranger – Alexander - held out his hand. 

“Ah… John. John Laurens.” John reached out, winced at the pink paint speckled on the back of his hand, and shook Alexander’s offered hand. 

Alexander smiled, gave John’s hand a warm squeeze before letting it go. 

“A pleasure, John Laurens. What are you doing in France?” Alexander sat back, tugged his hair out of his ponytail. Silky black hair fell in a kinked wave over his shoulder, and Alex scraped it back up into a better ponytail, arms over his head as he secured it with a purple hair tie. 

“Oh, I’m here for the summer, I’m taking an art course.” John told himself to quit fiddling with the strap on his bag, just relax, Alexander was just being nice. John tipped his head to the side, loose curls falling around his face. He pushed them back again, hoped there was no paint on that hand, at least, and watched Alexander watch him, his dark eyes endless and sharp and full of light. He was as mesmerizing as the serene landscape outside, in his own way. 

“Where’s home?” Alexander asked. He lifted his coffee cup to his lips, took such a big swallow that John was surprised he didn’t scald his throat. 

“South Carolina, but I’m thinking of moving to New York City in the fall when I get home. More opportunities there, and a bit of space from my family.” Why was he telling Alexander all that? Something about Alexander’s fierce energy drew him out, pulled words from his lips, coaxed him to life. Solidified him against the French backdrop of his new life, his new self, pulled him unstoppably towards the horizon of everything that could be. 

“Wonderful! Listen, I have to get on a call, but I’m so glad we met! Do you take this train every day?” Alexander was rustling through his bag as he talked now, spilling papers out of it again, until he triumphantly fished out his phone. 

John nodded, and bent to pick up the paper. He handed it back to Alexander, still a little struck dumb by the sheer force of energy Alexander wielded. Fingers brushed as Alexander accepted the paper. A spark, lighting a tiny flame in John’s heart, a world of maybes, a world of possibilities. 

A lightness in John’s chest he’d never felt before, all the weight of what should be floated away on a puff of cloud in face of all the endless possibilities, and no one to tell him no. 

“Great!” Alexander was already scrolling through his phone, tapping the contact, putting it to his ear, stuffing papers back into his bag, drinking the last of the coffee, doing more tasks at once than it seemed like he had enough hands to do. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then! Hello, yes hi Mr. Washington, how is everything?” And Alexander was off, eyes to the window, talking a mile a minute, all business, all snap, all sharp. Steady ticka-tick of the train rolling them into Paris. 

-

Maybe it was just the newness of it all, but everything felt crystal clear to John. The buttery melt of flaky pasty over his tongue for breakfast. The smooth glide of paint over canvas. The low murmur of class. The touch of pencil to paper. The sounds of life going on outside the classroom window. The first stranger’s dark eyes and easy smile. Alexander’s million watt energy. 

He felt like he could hold it all in his chest forever, it was so sharp, so vibrant. 

He stepped onto the train in the evening and sat down, bag on his lap. Hoped to see Alexander again, and then there he was, bounding onto the train, another coffee in his hand, talking a mile a minute in excited French, and-

Hope crashed and burned in John’s chest. 

-Alexander’s other hand, twined tight with the tall stranger from yesterday’s hand. 

They took seats father down the train car, shoulders touching, the tall one’s hand possessive on Alexander’s thigh, Alexander leaning into him, smiles soft, affectionate, love plain as day stretching wide between them. 

John yanked his eyes away, face burning, paint and freckles and heart all over his skin. He stared resolutely out the window. Watched the sun set on his aching heart, the pinks and golds so soft, so sweet, so heartbreaking in their beauty.


	3. Chapter 3

Morning dawned beautiful. 

John rose early, blinking in early morning sunlight and mist filtering in through the thin curtains of his room. He stretched and pulled on a pair of shorts and his running shoes, padded quiet down the old, sweeping wooden stair case and out through the back door. 

The world was wet with dew and hope, sun glinting off the water droplets in the lush grass. There was a stone chip path that wound through the vast estate, and John set off, one two rhythm of his feet hitting the stone chip steadying his heart, soothing his mind. 

He breathed, free and easy. 

He let the hope fill his lungs again as the sun began to fill the sky, unearthly early morning quality. Birds began to wake, singing bright songs to the lightening sky. He had a whole summer, a whole new life ahead of him. He was out from under all the thumbs that tried to press him into a mould he did not fit, and he felt all liquid and loose with possibility. 

So the handsome stranger had a boyfriend. So Alexander was that boyfriend. So what. 

There were endless other possibilities out there in the world. 

So what if he still felt drawn to those two. 

He stretched his arms above his head for a moment, tried to stretch outside his bones and freckled, paint stained skin, into all the space of opportunity. 

Let the misty morning air wrap him up, and ran the rest of the way just marvelling at the beauty around him. 

-

On the train again, loose hoodie unzipped over a white tank top, jeans low on his hips because he’d forgotten to pack a belt, John slouched in his seat and stared out the window, drank in the rolling countryside as the train ticka-ticked on. 

They rolled into the first station, and John tried not to look up, watched a mother shepherd three frolicking children down the street as they bounded ahead. 

The train pulled out as the woman threw up her hands in defeat, a smile across her face, faded into the distance frozen in John’s memory in a moment of surrender to joy. 

He couldn’t resist, then, surrendering to his own silly heart. He looked up, glanced around, and there they were, together again. The tall one’s head was pillowed on Alexander’s shoulder, glasses on his face, muttering something sleepily, too low for John to make out the words or the language. 

Alexander was on his phone, coffee in his other hand, muttering back to the tall one while typing with one hand and somehow not spilling the coffee. 

John looked on from the outside, envying their happy bubble. Wished he had someone to press an absent kiss to his forehead. Wished he had someone to rest their head on his shoulder and mumble sleepy nothings at him. Tilt their head up and ask silently for a kiss. Return a kiss silently asked for. All soft. All love. All warmth. 

John swallowed hard, couldn’t disguise the longing in his gaze, as bright as the blue paint on his cheek from yesterday. 

Alexander looked up, broke the bubble of peace that enveloped him and the tall stranger, and looked right at John like he knew he’d been there the whole time. Nudged his boyfriend and whispered something. 

John swallowed hard, and the tall stranger looked over too, smiled brightly, and lifted his hand in a little wave. 

John’s eyes widened, and he shook his head mutely when Alexander gestured at the empty seat across from them. It was bad enough to witness from here, the last thing he wanted was to sit right across from them and look at their love, something so sweet that he wanted so bad, and couldn’t have. 

Alexander frowned, and gestured again, more pointed. 

John shook his head. 

Alexander opened his mouth, and his boyfriend put a hand on his knee, said something quiet. 

Alexander closed his mouth. Tilted his head at John, brows furrowed. 

Resolute, John turned his gaze back out the window.

He only lasted like that for a few minutes, skin prickling with the not knowing if they were still looking at him, or if they were enveloped in their own quiet again. 

With a sigh, he dug his sketchbook out of his bag. Needed something to distract him, but just wound up sketching the two of them together, furtive glances their way when he hoped they weren’t looking. The boyfriend had his eyes closed now, hand stroking Alexander’s leg with loose, light strokes, and occasionally answering when Alexander stopped speaking long enough to breathe, or inhale more coffee. 

When the train pulled into Paris, John bolted from it before they could get up, and disappeared into the crowd. Picked himself up a box of three macarons for breakfast – lavender, almond, and honey – because why not, he was in France. 

-

In the evening, John settled back into what he’d already come to think of as his seat, facing backwards for the ride home so he could watch the city melt away. His white tank top was speckled with paint, a rainbow of colours streaked haphazard across him. He had paint on his forehead, and knew there was a bright streak of yellow in his hair, even though he’d tied it back in a ponytail earlier that day. 

He pulled his knees to his chest and hugged them there, licked his lips as he looked out the window, ready to go back to his aunt’s estate for the night. On the weekend, he’d stay in Paris, get out into night lit streets, and look for possibilities there. 

For now, the to and fro of the French countryside through the train window was enough. 

Alexander fell into the seat right across from him. 

John didn’t even have to look to know it was him. 

“Hi! Okay so, first, I’m sorry. I should have said something to you the other morning, but I needed to talk to Lafayette – this is Lafayette, by the way, he tells me you haven’t actually met, really, yet-“ Alexander started talking a mile a minute before he was even fully settled in his seat, and the boyfriend sat down beside him, smiling that heart stopping smile, watching John with a keen, attentive gaze. “-but yeah that’s his name, I told him yours. Anyways. I’m sorry. I think we freaked you out a bit yesterday evening?” 

Lafayette’s hand settled on Alexander’s knee again, and Alexander shut his mouth, paused for a breath. 

John’s head spun, and for a moment all he could do was stare.

“Uh, what?” Could have kicked himself for being so ineloquent. 

Lafayette smiled, and patted Alexander’s leg fondly. 

“Forgive Alexander, John. He tends to be on step twelve while the rest of us are still trying to make sense of step two. What were you sketching, yesterday?” Lafayette’s voice, as wonderful as John remembered it, soothed something in him, steadied him as Alexander whipped something in him to a fever pitch. 

Shyly, blushing, John flipped open his sketchbook and handed it to Lafayette. 

It was worth the embarrassment to see the way Lafayette’s whole face lit up at the sketch of him and Alexander, curled together on the train. 

“Hey that’s really good! So anyways Lafayette and I, we were-“

“Shut up, Alexander.” Lafayette handed John his sketchbook back, cutting Alexander off mid-sentence, and ignored the spectacular pout that Alexander pulled. That pout, oh lord. It tugged at John’s heart strings, had him ready to fall all over himself to put the smile back on Alexander’s face in its place.

Lafayette took on look at John’s face and laughed. 

“Oh no, don’t you fall for that face John Laurens, our Alexander, he is incorrigible.” Lafayette swatted Alexander playfully, and the pout darkened into a scowl that stirred something deep and unexpected in John’s bones. 

“Ah…” John blinked, struck dumb.

“What I was going to say, before Alexander tried to take over again, was this: you know what that sketch is missing, John?” Lafayette’s voice was warm, compelling. Drew John in slow and sweet and easy, a magnetic pull like nothing John had ever felt in his life. He shook his head, and watched as they both grinned brightly. 

“You.” Both at once, Lafayette sweet, coaxing. Alexander triumphant, eager. 

“What?” John blinked, not sure he’d heard correctly. 

“Let’s back up. Alexander and I, we both noticed you. We are boyfriends, yes, but we are polyamorous. That is, we believe that love is meant to be given, not held captive to just two people. While we were not necessarily actively seeking a third, you are beyond compelling, dear John. Would you like to join us for dinner tomorrow evening?” Lafayette explained. 

“Like… a date?” John tucked his sketchbook away again, blinking stupidly. 

“Yes,” Alexander chirped, all but bouncing in his seat, that vibrant energy radiating off him. 

“With… both of you?” John blinked, had to be sure he was hearing this correctly. 

“Yes,” Alexander grinned, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

John stared. Of all the endless possibilities he’d imagined that morning when he jogged through mist and sunrise, this had certainly not been one of them. 

He grinned. 

“I’d like that.” 

He never could have imagined anything so sweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!! I had a lot of fun with this little fic and as always, appreciate all the comments and reblogs and kudos so very much <3


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